


The Wolf & The Hare

by Moonleaf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cervix Sex, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonleaf/pseuds/Moonleaf
Summary: I was surprised I didn't find more Fenris/Merrill fics, so I had to write it myself:Merill thinks she is making Fenris' life better by redecorating the mansion without letting him know. The confrontation gets out of hand, and Fenris is caught by surprise by his reaction - from his body, and later, from his heart.Please pay attention to the tags :)





	The Wolf & The Hare

The lovely [wishiwaugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishiwaugh/pseuds/wishiwaugh/works) was my helpful beta for this fic, pop over and have a look at her work!

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

_ What the hell was that? _ Fenris cracked open a crusty eye and emerged from the pillows, his head pounding and his mouth dry and tasting of death. And _ someone _ was making a terrible racket down in the big hall. Nearly knocking over the empty wine bottles littering his nightstand, he gracelessly got up from the bed and lumbered out of the bedroom door. The chaos unfolding outside made him stop, speechless. There were elves and human workers crawling all over the place like ants. The broken and useless furniture had been removed, the moldy tapestries and carpets were gone, and the ugly totems left behind by Danarius were currently being manhandled out of the double doors. 

Fenris could hear what sounded like someone smashing walls somewhere in the far reaches of the servant quarters. He went over to the barrister of the gallery, feeling a simmering heat rising in his chest, as well as a definite need to give someone an earful. And there, on the other side of the room, he saw Hawke standing with Varric and Anders. The latter made himself scarce the moment he saw Fenris descend upon them. Varric stood his ground, albeit somewhat wavering as his eyes flickered about, making sure he knew where the nearest exit was. Hawke’s sheepish grin did nothing to help Fenris’ mood.

“Maker’s breath, Fenris, you look like death warmed over. Oh, and you stink of wine by the way, maybe consider a ba...ouch!”

Varric had smartly stood on Hawke’s foot. The dwarf always had better survival instincts. Fenris narrowed his eyes and let his face do the talking. Varric tried to be the diplomat.

“Listen, kid, this wasn’t our idea, okay? Especially not mine. In fact, I quite explicitly told her this was a terrible idea.”

Fenris crossed his arms and stayed quiet. Hawke started to fiddle anxiously with the hilt of his sword. He always broke first when Fenris used his special brand of silence to get answers.

“So, err...Merrill went to Bethany because she thought you needed cheering up after the whole punching through Danarius’ chest ordeal. You haven’t quite been your usual self lately.”

“That’s an understatement.” Varric said under his breath, looking away quickly when Fenris sent him an acid look.

“....aaaand Bethany went to Sebastian, who went to Aveline, and she somehow got the Viscount to let you have the house - IF you got it cleaned up and restored to its former glory. Apparently Aveline has some dirt on the Viscount”

“Also, there have been complaints from your neighbors. Your very rich, very powerful neighbors,” Varric added. 

Damnation, that little, interfering, audacious...Mage! He finally spoke up. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Hawke pointed further into the hallway, looking somewhat hesitant and worried as Fenris passed him in long strides.

“Fenris, wait! She only meant well!”

Fenris turned for a moment.

“Get out.”

“We can’t, we made a deal with the Viscount!”

“Tell everybody to leave. Now.”

Then he stalked down the corridor, looking left and right for the infernal elf. He finally saw her in the vestibule by the kitchen. She stood next to one of the many bookcases littered about the house, and was piling a small tower of books into the arms of an already overburdened male elf - who looked like he was about to snap in half. Fenris didn’t stop until he towered over Merrill. She looked up and smiled.

“Fenris! We are sorting out the house, I am making a library in that room with...a...fireplace.” She trailed off looking uncertain. He snarled at the elf worker, who ran off without looking twice at Merrill, and grabbed her upper arm to force her to face his wrath.

“Why?! I did NOT ask for this.”

She stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“You were so miserable, and drunk all the time. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

A small crowd of elves had congregated at a safe distance, watching Fenris and Merrill as if they were an interesting street performance. When they realized he was watching them, they scampered off. Without letting go of her arms, Fenris pulled Merrill behind him through the nearest door. He realized too late it led to one of the small pantries, as the shelves were filled with tiny jars. Trust the rich to have an entire pantry just for condiments. 

Though the shelves were deep and stocked to the brim, the actual space to move was very snug, especially for two people. Fenris immediately stubbed his toe against some wooden boxes on the floor. He swore loudly and stepped over it. Merill had to step up on it to fit in the space, and he leaned over her and locked the door without thinking. The light from the hallway outside came in through wooden blinds set into the door, meant to adjust the temperature inside, but he could twist them to see what was going on outside. He didn’t like being trapped with a Mage, but he didn’t want the entire elven Alienage to know his private business.

Merrill was quiet the whole time, waiting for him to speak. Good. She must know she was in trouble now.

“What in Andraste’s name made you think I wanted this. Surely, not even you could be that stupid!”

“You complained about the draft, the blocked chimney, and the moldy bed just the other day?”

“Yes, but...,” Fenris was interrupted by some workers passing by. Hadn’t Hawke ordered them to leave yet? Apparently not, because several men and women started carrying the old fittings, pots, pans and the rest of the rusty kitchen tools out of the kitchen and passed the pantry door.

“Fenris, please!” 

Fenris answered Merrill by clamping a hand over her mouth. He could see her pleading expression and hear her try to talk again, and his anger took over. Before she had time to react, he pulled her to him and spun her in one movement. Standing on the low crate made Merrill almost the same height as him, and he moved his mouth close to her ear.

“You had no right, but lo and behold - the power you have blinds you. I am not a lost puppy you can tame with a soft bed and a place by the fire!”

Merrill tried to reply, but he tightened his grip, his fury only burning brighter. How dare she!? But through the haze of anger, some other sensations registered too: how she smelled like a forest in midsummer, of fragrant resin and Yasmine flowers in bloom. She squirmed in his arms, trying to free herself. The people outside had just started on the kitchen and were clearly in no hurry. 

“Stop fighting!” he hissed at her. Merrill replied by trying to bite him. Fenris cupped his hand so she couldn’t get to his palm. Her body was warm and moving against him, her ass rubbing against his groin. 

Against every current hostile inclination he had, his cock hardened. 

Fenris hadn’t fucked anyone since he was owned by Danarius. The Mage had forced him to do unspeakable things, collared and leashed like an animal. Powerless and defeated, he had been disgusted by his own body’s betrayal, as he came over and over at his master's feet. 

But this. Merrill. Her struggles to free herself barely made him break a sweat. Her helplessness and pitiful fighting made him rock hard. A Mage, in his hands, unable to break free. She probably could though, if she used magic. His Lyrium-infused body would let him know when she started to draw mana, but so far she hadn’t. Unable to stop himself, he ground his cock against her ass. She whimpered and suddenly stopped moving.

Then Fenris pressed Merrill’s upper body against the door, tipping her head back and biting down on her throat. Her breaths were labored through her nose, and he enjoyed the strain her body was in. Merrill’s head tilted back, his arm around her ribs and her small breasts squeezed against the blinds. Her back arched, and her ass stuck out tantalizingly. He kept grinding, slow and steady, panting. 

Why wasn’t she doing anything? He would have liked the Mage to fight him, it gave him an excuse to be more brutal. And if she dared using magic... Fenris leaned forward to see her face. Her large eyes were half-closed, her normally pale face was flushed and tears streaked her cheeks. There was fear there, and he reveled in it. But also anticipation, and what was that? Something else flashed across her face, but before he could consider it, she moved again, trying to speak.

Fenris tightened his grip over her mouth and slid the other arm down, pulling up her tunic to get to her waistband, all whilst watching her face. Her eyes sprang open when he slid down her leggings, and her cries from behind his hand grew panicked. Oh, he had her now. The legging was just barely below her ass before he helped his cock out of his own. It pulsated and ached, and he had no intention of waiting. Fenris swiftly guided it between Merrill’s legs, just as the vestibule outside filled with people chatting and talking. They stopped up, apparently planning on eating their lunch there. Someone had used whatever was left in the kitchen to cook up something, and amongst the small crowd was Hawke, Varric, Anders, Isabel, and Aveline. 

Merrill’s reaction to feeling his dick was to freeze. He let it slide between her thighs a few times, and found to his surprise that she was wet. He looked at her, taking in her tear-stained face, her unfocused stare, her short breath. If she cried out now, all her friends would hear her and discover them in this compromised state. Would she scream? The adrenaline and arousal made him reckless. He let go of her face, watching her open mouth smeared with her own saliva. Oh, but she was beautiful!

Without any further hesitation, he bent his knees and pressed his cock upwards. The head slid in and got stuck as the dry skin of his dick caught on her outer lips. She made a slight sound but suppressed any further exclamations. Fenris slid his hand down her belly and let his finger seek the place where his shaft disappeared into her. She was so smooth, completely hairless. He slowly stroked her velvet lips and tight skin inside them, coating everything with her slick and making her whimper. Supporting her by moving the arm back up around her ribs, he thrust hard. So tight! So very, very tight. He grunted in her ear and started to roll his hips slowly. 

Outside their pantry, the luncheon was in full progress, people were eating and talking, happily unaware of what was happening a few meters away. The suppressed sounds Merrill and Fenris made didn’t register, and he could no longer hold back. His anger was still there, and behind that; the rage he had carried with him for so many years, vivid and all-consuming. He hadn’t noticed, but his slow rocking had given way to a ferocious pace. She shivered, her legs shaking as he fucked her faster. The slight smacking sound of his balls slapping against her clit was barely audible over the sounds from outside, but it excited him.

Fenris buried his teeth in her neck, barely avoiding breaking the skin. Merrill’s short breaths and whimpers egged him on, and he felt the beast rising in him. He held her tighter, digging his fingers into her small breasts and no doubt bruising the sensitive flesh. He didn't care, he squeezed harder and pounded her deeper.

The human women he had been forced to fuck couldn’t take him completely. But as an elf, Merrill would. The last strokes were brutal; it took her by surprise when he showed his cockhead into her womb, pulled out, and rammed himself through her cervix again, with no regards to her. He had to clamp his hand over her mouth again, because she cried out as he filled her womb, throb by throb. Then he just stood there, waiting for his breath to return and the people outside to move away. 

Merrill clung to the door. He tipped her head backward again, to see her face and gauge her thoughts. She looked dazed, and he was again struck by her loveliness. Fenris was almost dizzy himself, the power of the orgasm so overwhelming. His thoughts trailed off when the sounds of people leaving the vestibule reached them. He pulled his cock out, though he was still hard. Then he yanked up her leggings, and without fastening them for her, started to sort out his own clothes. 

She stood there, emotionless, watching him. Fenris realized she wasn’t going to, so he tied the waistband under her tunic. Opening the door, he let her stumble out before stepping out himself. Merrill continued towards the hall, and Fenris watched her leave. His mind was blank, but he registered the stiffness in her body. A part of him wanted to go after her, but what would he even say? The hangover from the previous night and aftermath of his anger made themselves known to him in full force, a powerful pressure in his head. From far off, he heard the front door close, and once again he was alone. The house was full of nothing but empty rooms, silence, and dust.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Fenris didn’t see Merrill for several weeks. Hawke took him on a mission to the Wounded Coast together with Sebastian, Aveline and Anders. But someone had continued the work on the house while he was gone, the place hardly recognizable when he came home. Wandering slowly through the house, Fenris took in the fresh whitewash, repairs of stonework and tiles, new curtains and carpets. It smelled different too. The air felt fresher - not like you breathed in 20 years of accumulated dust - and the hint of mildew was gone. The windows had been cleaned, including the glass dome above the ballroom. It was light and airy, and every last trace of Danarius had been erased. 

In his bedroom, Fenris found the mattress, pillows, and duvet had been replaced. He hovered over it for a minute, feeling an absurd impulse to throw himself onto the bed, but checked himself before he could act on it. Instead, he lit a fire in the fireplace and went into the bathroom. He found it to be just as clean as the rest of the house, as well as stocked up with towels and soaps. The waterworks had also been fixed, and he had a very cold, but very satisfying bath. Afterward, he sat down to clean his sword and armor in front of the roaring fire. The heat and comfort of the mundane task was soothing, and his mind wandered while he worked. He knew that Merrill had help from Hawke and the others, but how could they afford this? Just thinking about what kind of debt this had gotten him into, made him queasy. It didn’t matter that it was to Hawke. Fenris needed to speak with him in the morning. Why did Merrill always have to meddle? When his sword was free of any dirt and moisture, he placed it by the nightstand and got into the soft, cozy bed. He slept for the first time in ages without the aid of wine.

When Fenris called at Hawke’s house, there was no one home, so he made his way to The Hanged Man. Hawke wasn’t there either, but he found Varric in the dwarf’s quarters. Fenris sat down by the awkwardly low table, uncomfortable under the stare of Varric, who as usual seemed to have an unnerving ability to guess what was going on.

“You know, most people would be happy they get a big house in Hightown for free, and someone willing to do all the work of restoring it. One might go as far as consider it unthankful.”

“I didn’t ask for it. And I was perfectly content with my quarters as they were.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure the rats, cockroaches, and pigeons agreed. So I take it you have come to complain?”

“Who paid for all the work on the house? I will never be able to pay it back. And how am I supposed to keep it like this? By the time I finish cleaning the house, I have to start all over again.”

“Here.” Varric poured a goblet full of wine and handed it over to Fenris. “First of all, the house came for free. All the repairs and refurbishings were given to us, as there are quite a few people in this town who owe Hawke favours. As for upkeep, I understand the property isn’t just the house. It is an estate. And it comes with farms outside Kirkwall. It will pay for itself. You are a rich elf from now on, no need to work with Hawke unless you do it for fun.”

Fenris had been drinking as Varric spoke, and nearly spit it out in shock. Varric grinned and offered a refill. Fenris was too shell-shocked to refuse.

“You should employ some of the elves that helped Merrill. A housekeeper, a few maids, and maybe a servant or two for the heavy lifting? They could really use the jobs, you have seen what it is like in the Alienage.”

Not knowing what to say, Fenris continued to just stare at Varric. It seemed to unsettle the dwarf.

“Listen, I don’t understand why you are so upset. Everything was done with the best of intentions…” Fenris rose abruptly. He didn’t quite understand himself. But he had swore that nobody would ever tell him what to do again, and it somehow felt like Merrill had done so by this…craziness. He left the room without a word, but he couldn’t help but hear Varric’s exasperated sight behind him on the way out. 

Fenris hadn’t really taken the time to digest what had happened in the pantry with Merrill. A part of him didn’t want to think of it, but a small voice told him exactly what he had done to her. But his body remembered so differently. Her smell, how she felt under his hands. The sounds she had made, and the warm wetness. It made him harden to remember, so he pushed the memories away. He walked home deep in thoughts, and let himself in. There were sounds from somewhere in the bowels of the house. He followed them, through the ballroom and up the stairs. His bedroom door was open, and he peered in. The fire was lit, but nobody was there. A muffled thud and swearing in elvish came from next door. He moved silently towards the half-closed door and saw movement in the room. Slamming open the door, Fenris felt the exasperation turn into anger almost immediately. Merrill jumped, and almost dropped the books she was about to place on one of the large bookshelves. WHY was she here - AGAIN?! She should know better than to come back.

Merrill seemed to have lost her ability to speak, she just stood there, much like a hare caught unawares. Fenris felt his mind fogging over. He had no idea why Merrill always seemed to aggravate him so. All he knew was that he wanted her, and he wanted to punish her, and he wanted her to stop looking so helpless, but he wanted to hear her pleading and he wanted her to whimper and he wanted her to come on his cock and he wanted her to whisper his name and…

He took her arm and squeezed, so her face twisted up and she dropped the books.

“What are you doing?” he growled. She flinched from him, and tried to pull her arm away.

“I'm finishing the library for you.” Her eyes were huge, green and full of life, and fear. Why did that turn him on so? 

“I can’t read.”

“Oh.” She seemed genuinely taken aback at this; the pity on her face disgusted him. “I can teach you?”

“I don’t want your help! When will you get that into your little head? Leave.”

He dropped her arm and opened the door for her, waiting impatiently for her to get out. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she dawdled, replacing the books and looking around to see if anything else was out of place. Did she truly not see that he was struggling to hold back? He was physically shaking with anger, and frustration, and arousal. Finally she made her way out of the door, and he headed towards his room, expecting her to make her way out. But no. A small voice behind him made him turn.

“Can I. Um. Can I pick up my staff? I left it in your room…”

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Merrill was scared. Fenris had always scared her, but there had also always been this incredibly strange feeling in her body whenever he was near her. Like she had to pee, but the feeling went further into her body, and made her all tingly and nervous. When he pulled her into the pantry, she had been breathless with excitement. Merrill had been shocked at Fenris’ ferocity. But it made her wet to feel his need for her body, how he had taken her without hesitation, with so many people close by. She fantasized about it many nights after, touching herself and having powerful orgasms while she whispered his name.

She knew he had come back from the latest adventure with Hawke, and the part that was willing to push the danger made her stop by in the hope that he was home. The other part of her had been relieved he hadn't been. She let herself in, and after some inner deliberation, she left her staff in his bedroom. 

Now she tried to flit past to get the staff, half hoping, half dreading he would respond. As she bent down to pick it up, she heard him move behind her.

“Give me the staff.”

She obeyed. He took it, and tossed it out of the door closing it and turning the key. 

“Why do you keep testing me?”

The key was no longer in his hand, and Merrill had no idea where it went.

“Take off your clothes.”

She did, although somewhat hesitantly. Her movements were sluggish and she trembled as she peeled off every layer. She felt vulnerable and anxious. When she dragged her smallclothes off and dropped them, he closed his fist in her hair and guided her to the bed. Fenris sat down, and pulled her with him. She landed on his lap, belly first. He adjusted her ass and, before she had time to realize what was going on, his hand landed on her buttcheek with a stinging slap.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Merrill’s body was lithe and easy to move. Fenris tugged her further over his lap, so her ass was over his thighs. Her buttcheeks were unmarred, and marble white like the rest of her body. The first slap didn’t hit quite right, and he followed up with a perfect smack that rung in the room. Merrill squealed and he smirked. Her ass had a nice red imprint of his hand. He continued. Never letting her know which side he would hit next, or exactly where. He saw her pulling a pillow closer so she could bury her face in it, and he kept going until his own hands started to feel numb.

Her backside was deep red, swollen, with hints of purple bruising where he had been particularly persistent. Fenris felt spent. The turmoil inside had subsided, and a tranquil serenity filled him. He looked down on Merrill. She was panting, and her short hair was tousled and stuck to her wet face. He scooped a hand under her and turned her so she half faced him from her position across his lap. Holding her arms behind her back, he expected to see what he had done written on her face. But she looked like he felt. Spent and serene, her small breasts slowly rising with those puffy, pale pink areolas. Her mouth was swollen too, likely from her biting her lip, as it was almost mauve in color. He couldn’t stop taking her in. Merrill lifted her head towards him, and, for a moment, he thought she wanted to bite him. Her head was at an awkward angle, her neck elongated and bared. She opened her mouth and whispered, with a broken voice, “_Please. Please, please_…”

He thought she was begging him to let her go, and he considered it. But she suddenly pushed herself up the last bit of the way, and softly, she let her lips touch his. It was like the gentlest of flutters, a soft warmth that lit another fire in him. But not in the chest, like the anger did. It started in the groin and moved through every vein in his body like lava. He let go of one of her arms and cupped the back of her head with his hand. Merrill touched his cheek, tracing his jaw with the tips of her fingers. 

Fenris didn’t know what to do, but she closed her eyes and let her mouth open slightly. He took the invitation, and pressed his lips to hers. He had never kissed anyone before, and the sensation was alien, but pleasant. Slowly he got more comfortable, as Merrill stayed submissive and followed his lead. So he tasted her, explored her tongue with his own and discovered the many pleasures of making her breathless and desperate. Occasionally, he pulled back to watch her face, and she stared back at him through lowered eyelashes. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her across him and onto the middle of the bed, spooning her and letting his hands trail up her thighs, her narrow hips, trim waist, and up to her breasts. He cupped them roughly, pressing her back and down on his groin.

“Do you want me to take you?”

She seemed confused by the question, and opened her mouth a few times without a sound. Fenris sat up on his knees and removed his leggings, then his smallclothes. She watched him half turned, from the corner of her eye. When he was naked, he leaned over and pushed up her the leg closest to him. She now lay with one leg straight down below him and the upper knee in an angle, her slit exposed to him. Fenris stroked the underside of the upper thigh, towards her ass. He felt her skin go sticky before he reached her center, as her arousal had been spread between her thighs by their movements. Merrill seemed embarrassed, she looked away but gasped when the tips of his fingers just brushed her outer lips. They were just as deliciously smooth as he had remembered, and he let his fingers dip in between them, and pull her open. His fingers were drenched in slick. Letting go, he pulled his hand up so she could see the wetness on his hands. She looked at the evidence and swallowed. 

“I said, do you want me to take you?”

Again, she seemed to have no reply for him, so he replaced his hand back between her legs. She shuddered. Slowly and lightly, he traced her lips, adding just a tad of pressure very time he passed over her clit. Soon, she was squirming and gasping, and his cock was throbbing. But he didn’t give in just yet.

“Answer me,” he said and pressed down on her most sensitive spot. She opened her mouth, and their eyes met. “Do you want me to take you?”

She was trembling, and he let his hand slide along the underside of the thigh, leaving trails of slick on her skin. Slowly he lifted her leg up higher, holding her rapt attention. 

“_...please...please..._”

Her begging was just too sweet.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

She was still on their side, Fenris straddling the thigh closest to the mattress and pushing the other leg up so he could see her most intimate parts. Merrill was desperate. The spanking had stung, but by now it had dulled to heat. Fenris had teased her body to oversensitivity, and she yearned for him to enter her. He lifted her knee so high it was leaning on his shoulder. Her whispered pleases finally got through to him, and he leaned down and embraced her waist and raised leg, spreading her even more. Merrill felt him move, and the tip of Fenris’ cock prod at her opening. Impatiently, she moved her hips, and the sensation when he breached her was beyond anything she had expected. 

It took Fenris no more than a thrust to bottom out from this angle. She clung to him as he started fucking her in earnest, the wet sounds as his shaft penetrating her filled the room. Merrill didn’t have the stamina to keep up with him, so she concentrated on breathing and angling her own body just so. When he came, he just kept going, pushing the cum back into her body every time he thrust. 

Fenris suddenly got up on his knees, pulled her leg up with him and let it rest almost vertically on his chest. She was still lying on her side, so when he impaled her once more, he embraced her thigh and hoisted her up so she took him deeper. Relentlessly, he pounded her, the head of his cock pressed against the entrance to her womb over and over until it gave way and that thing happened again. It felt like he swelled inside her, and she felt like she had to pee. She made a distressed sound, thinking she was about to have an accident, and looked down. She could see a slight curve to her abdomen, following the shape of his dick. And just in time to see his hand come down to press the pad of his finger to her clit, and start rubbing. 

Merrill yelped and tried to swat his hand away in panic, flustered by the prospect of peeing on Fenris and never being able to look him in the eye again. However, he had no intentions of letting her off the hook, and just rubbed her more vigorously. She came suddenly, with a gush of pee and a mortified cry. He kept up the massage until her body had stopped twitching and her muscles relaxed again. She looked at the mess she had made in utter embarrassment, but Fenris was smiling at her expression.

“I will take it as you never came like that before? Perfectly natural, if given the right administrations.”

“But…”

“It wasn’t pee, if that is what you worry about.”

He lay down next to her again, his arms still around her. They fell asleep like that and slept through the rest of the day. Merill woke up in the evening to find the spot next to her abandoned, and the house empty.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Weeks later and they had found a rhythm to whatever it was. In his house, Merrill belonged to Fenris. She submitted to his rough administrations, the fucking, and after - it all turned around to gentleness. It didn’t come naturally to Fenris at all, but it somehow felt... good. Merrill was tender, and tentatively touched every part of him, from scalp to feet. Despite his initial apprehension, he started mimicked what she did to him. She refused to take Elfroot afterwards, so a part of the aftercare was tending to the small scrapes, bruises, and soreness he left her, with a healing balm. He couldn’t understand why, but he considered it to be her decision. He always kept healing potion in his room, just in case. But the slight stiffness to her walk the day following a particularly vigorous night in his bed always made him want her desperately. 

Once, Hawke had been invited to a ball by the Viscount, and "The Champion of Kirkwall" refused to go unless he got to bring his entire crew. As Fenris stood in a corner, sipping a fairly decent Orlesian wine, he watched Merrill talking animatedly to Isabela. The elf wore a dress of some Dalish design, he had never seen her in anything but leggings before. Isabela was her normal self, drinking from a bottle she had grabbed from one of the servers, and flirting shamelessly with everyone. At least you could say that about the woman, she didn’t discriminate. If you caught her eye, be it short or tall, man or woman, servant or royalty, she would let you know. 

Merrill giggled and Isabela burst out laughing, turned and grabbed a fistful of treats from the buffet and slapped Merrill’s ass hard. Fenris caught himself in time, but he had straightened from his relaxed position so fast, Isabela had caught the sudden movement. She sent him an understanding look, before leaving Merrill by herself. She discreetly stroked the fabric of her dress over her backside, no doubt feeling the sting from yesterday's spanking again. 

Fenris started moving before he knew it, intercepting Merrill as she walked between overdressed nobles and other important people. She browsed the endless plates of food, and sampled them occasionally with a pensive look. As he reached her, he glanced around, but no one paid them any mind. Even Isabela had her back turned. Fenris slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her quickly in between the heavy, double curtains hanging from the two-story high windows in the big room. The light and sounds were immediately muffled, and he pressed her all the way in towards the stone pillars. The burgundy velvet curtain separated them from the room on one side of them, the cream silk Damascus on the other. He pressed her up against the smooth, cool stone and heard her breath quicken.

In Merrill’s eyes, he saw his own arousal reflected, and she sighed into his mouth when he pressed his lips to hers. He hiked up her dress, trying not to rip it in his eagerness. She wasn’t wearing smallclothes. His breath hitched, and he swung her around. Whilst burying his face in her neck, he helped himself out of his trousers. His cock ached in his hand, and he guided it between her legs. The other arm was embracing her, his hand on her pubic bone to press her hips backward so she presented better. She was wet and ready, but he had to cover her mouth as he started moving. Her small mewling sounds, and the pleading look she always gave him when he was inside her, made Fenris lose what little self-restraint he had left. 

Merrill’s upper body arched beautifully, just the way that made him go deep. She tried to steady herself by holding on to the wall, but it was Fenris that held her up. The hand with the metal glove gripped her throat, tilting it back and towards him. His hips pistoned as controlled as he could muster in his current state. Merrill was already clenching around him, her wet velvet gripping his cock delightfully. She was close to coming, and when he breached her womb the first time, she whimpered into his hand, her eyes rolling back in her head. 

Fenris whispered praise in her ear, and after a few more thrusts, he lifted her hips up and pushed himself as deep as he could. She fell forward, collapsing against the pillar. The tightness of the cervix pinched around his cockhead, and he shot his seed in her, rhythmically grinding until his orgasm was over and they found themselves coming back down from the high. Merrill had come too, he could tell from her twitching muscles. He leaned over her and rested his head on her shoulder until he could think again. 

When they emerged from their hiding place, no one seemed to have noticed their absence. Although Isabela seemed to send him wider grins than usual. The rest of the evening Fenris spent trying not to watch Merrill, or think about his seed dripping down her thighs under that dress. He had to take two trips to the bathroom to relieve himself of the frustrating hardness. 

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Varric’s claim about Fenris new status as “rich” soon turned out to be on the optimistic side. The farms on the estate had been abandoned for almost a decade, and would not produce an income for some years. But Merrill and Hawke had good suggestions, that Fenris eventually conceded to. He was to rent out the farms to elves from the Alienage for free, until it actually could produce a surplus. In the meantime, the huge house was empty, and it was Merrill who came up with the solution. Fenris could rent out the many rooms to elves who worked in the households in Hightown. Not all the nobles offered quarters to their servants, and if you worked late, you had to make your way back to the Alienage and hope that no gangs would stumble upon you. 

It took some time to get used to, but in less than a month, the large house was bustling. To Fenris’ relief, his new tenants turned out to respect his wishes to be left alone. They had started some sort of rotation between them, and the house stayed spotless and tidy. There was constant activity in the kitchen, and always food if he wanted it. He put on a bit of weight as he started to get regular meals, and slowly he got used to having to engage with people whenever he left his room. The respect he was shown, he attributed to his tattoos and armor. 

Therefore, he was surprised when someone knocked frantically on his door one evening. He was hoping Merrill would show up, as she hadn’t been around for a few days. They hadn’t really talked about their...arrangement, and he was angry at himself for feeling unsettled by her not coming to him for so long. When he yanked open the door, an elf stood outside the door. His face clearly showed that he would rather not, but there was something else there too - fear. And Fenris realized it wasn’t because of him.

“What is going on?”

“They took her!”

“Who?”

“Our Keeper! The Templars came looking for apostates…”

It took Fenris a moment to understand who the elf was talking about. As the realization hit, he grabbed his sword and rushed out onto the gallery where he stopped, shocked. Elves filled the hall and stairs outside his room, all standing in silence. Their serious faces looked up at him, the worry and misgivings clear. He hadn’t known she had a status amongst the city elves as a Keeper. Merrill had always seemed a bit lonely. But being a leader doesn’t mean you make many friends. He hurried through the silent crowd, feeling their eyes on him every step as he crossed the ballroom towards the front door.

Fenris moved through the city in long, quiet strides. Few people would be out at this hour, but he didn’t want to be stopped by a patrol of city guards. And a sure way to get any of Aveline’s men to pay extra attention to you, would be to run through the city. He made his way towards the Gallows, hoping to cut the Templars off. He had so little information, why hadn’t he taken a minute to ask the elf more questions? Had the Templars only taken Merrill? Had she put up a fight? The pressure in his chest tightened when he heard voices and the faint clink of armor. He could almost smell the Lyrium on them. 

Rounding the next corner, Fenris saw the group. The Templars had stopped, and he could hear whimpers and someone crying. The elven apostates all had heavy collars made of steel clamped around their necks, and their hands were secured behind their backs. Weighty chains linked them all together, and the Templars had them on their knees. There were maybe nine or ten elves in all, and the first one was lying on the ground, being kicked by a Templar. The sight was familiar, he had seen countless similar scenes in the Tevinter slave markets. Fenris lost control.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

Sounds came to him, muffled. Fenris knew he was seriously injured. He had kept the Templars at bay for a long time, but then reinforcements arrived for both sides, and all hell broke loose. Swords clanged, there were screams and thuds, bodies rolling and falling. The deafening sounds of Mages firing off spells. Above him, Merrill’s face came into focus. Her pale cheeks were smeared with blood and dirt, and her eyes were wild with worry. 

“Fenris! Please stay with me.”

She turned her head and shouted for help. But in the heat of the battle, her voice was drowned out. She turned back to him, leaning over and cupping his chin in her hand. He was starting to feel the pain now, making itself known through the haze of shock. He lifted his head and saw a bloody mess under Merrill’s other hand, which was pressing against his guts. She put her hand on his forehead and pressed his head back on the ground.

“I am so sorry, Fenris, I am out of Lyrium!”

She let go of his stomach, and he could feel the hot blood pouring from his wounds in spurts. He licked his lips, wanting to tell her it was ok. He had never feared dying. But Merrill, as always, had other plans.

“Forgive me.”

Then she brought up her knife, and sliced open her arm. Fenris tried to grab her arm, but she had moved beyond his reach. Her blood was drawn out, making the strangest patterns in the air, glowing like a thousand tiny fireflies. Merrill’s hand conducted them, and the light swirled over Fenris before it suddenly descended on his body. He gasped as the light stung his eyes, but he felt a sense of dread as the pain blossomed before he lost consciousness. 

When he woke up, it was in his own bed. The door was open, and without moving his head, Fenris could see Anders talking to Hawke, Aveline, and Varric out on the gallery. His stomach had a tight bandage, and he could smell the faint hint of a Healing Balm. Beside him came a slight snore, and he discovered Merrill lying next to him. Her arm was slung over her head, and it too had a thick bandage. He found he was so relieved to see her alive, that he didn’t get upset that someone had decided to put them in the same bed. And why should he? She had been in his bed many times now. He thought nobody knew, but maybe he hadn’t been so discreet as he had initially thought. Hawke had seen he was awake, and his friends all poured into the bedroom. 

“Are you going to tell us how it came to be that you single-handedly rescued nine apostates from the Templars?” Hawke asked, with a slight smile on his face.

“Single-handedly? There was a whole horde of Mages that came to fight,” Fenris replied, trying to sit up.

“Yes, but not before you had taken down a small platoon of Templars to save the captured elves.”

Hawke waited for an answer, but Fenris used Anders coming over to check the dressing of the wound as an excuse to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t explain it easily in one sentence. 

“They...were chained. Like animals.”

Hawke nodded. Aveline exchanged looks with Varric. Anders finished his examination, and nodded to Hawke, satisfied at the state of the wound. He put his hand on Fenris’ shoulder and sought to look him in the eye: “Merrill healed all the internal damages. What was left for me to do was closing the gash. It became an impressive amount of stitches, and you will have the scars to prove it. But you are alive.”

Anders walked over to the washbasin and cleaned his hands.

“She saved your life with blood magic.”

Fenris made a grimace. Anders nodded.

“I know. There, at least, we are in agreement. But it was a last resort, she was out of Lyrium. And she nearly bled out, the little fool cut too deep.”

Varric cleared his throat. “I am not very educated on the magic stuff, why couldn’t she use some of the copious amounts of blood provided by our brooding friend here? Not to mention the countless of Templars he left dismembered?”

This earned him an aggressive “shush!” from Aveline. Anders put down the towel and came back to the bed. 

“Blood magic demands a sacrifice. You give your pain and life force, in exchange for mana. Some spells will only work with blood magic of course, but that’s beside the point. She had to make a sacrifice big enough to counter the damage done to your body, I think.”

“But you are both fine, Fenris. You will heal.”

Aveline turned to Hawke. “I am happy to see they are recovering, but I have to go to oversee the cleanup of the mess they left. I will keep you posted. See you later.”

She left, and Hawke followed her to do what he could to smooth over the incident using whatever grace he had left with the Viscount. Varric stayed a little while longer, updating Fenris on the whereabouts of the Mages, of what had happened after he passed out, and finally made sure there was water, ale, and food for both the elves on the nightstand. Then he made his excuses and left.

Fenris laid back into the soft pillows. It had been so close; he could not remember being this close to death before. The sense of relief from finding he was alive, was surprising. A small sound made him roll over, finding Merrill awake and looking at him with those luminous eyes of hers. She lifted her arm slowly and stroked his hair. He had never really let her touch him except after sex, but now he closed his eyes and leaned into it. Why not, he thought. Actually, he could come up with at least a dozen or more reasons why this was a bad idea. But somehow they didn’t feel compelling enough. Merrill was right there- warm, soft, and alive. 

She slid a little closer to him, and he got the feeling she closed in on him as if he was a wounded animal. It irked him, but he circled her waist with one arm, the other around her shoulder, and pulled her to him. She sighed and settled into him, her face in the nook of his neck, her slender arm lightly stretched across his chest. Could he get used to this, the feel of her body next to his? No games, no anger, no pain? Just. Being.

“_Are you feeling better?_” she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. 

“Yes.”

“_I’m sorry._”

“It is not your fault.”

“_I...didn’t think you would care._”

Fenris twisted his head to look at her.

“You think I’d let them take you?”

He somehow felt offended. She spoke up.

“You said many times you think Mages should be locked away in the Circle, that we are dangerous?”

Her voice was sad, but with a hint of reproachfulness. 

“I’m not sure I have a good answer for you. I said it, and I meant it. The power a Mage holds, it is beyond what most people can handle. But…” Fenris sough for the right words. “I’m not sure I understood what the Circle entailed. Until I saw you in chains. I have worn a collar like that. And I don’t think I wish that for anyone.”

There was some silence after that, Merrill unmoving in his arms and her breath steady. He thought she had fallen asleep when he heard her whisper “_Thank you. For saving us._”

  
  


_.-._.-._.-._.-._

In a few weeks, Fenris was up and about. Merrill had moved back to her house in the Alienage only a few days after the attack. She said she needed to be present, reassure her people, and make sure everything was as it should be.

He felt the damage done to his body keenly, his whole torso was stiff and every movement felt cumbersome and slow. So he spent most of his time in the library. His wine consumption had been cut back severely by Anders, but his elven tenants made sure he got a nice serving of every meal cooked in the kitchen. He sensed some shift in their attitude towards him, a new reverence he wasn’t too sure if he liked. The elven race was too complacent and conflict shy in his opinion, but he found it harder to disapprove when it was himself they showed respect and gratitude towards. 

The library didn’t just offer him sanctuary from the groveling of his tenants, but also comfort in the form of pillows and a large, cozy chair in front of the fire. He had gotten some reading lessons from Hawke during his recovery, and the books in the room were a nice distraction. He still had to follow the line with his finger, but the shelves were filled with wonderful tomes of discovery and mysteries. Until the door was opened none too gently, and Isabela strode into the room.

“So, this is where you hideout? Nice.”

She looked around in the room, no doubt searching for wine bottles she could pilfer from. When it turned out to be fruitless, she turned towards him and stared him down, one hand leaning on a hip, the other one tossing a dagger nonchalantly. Suddenly, she threw it with a sharp flick of her wrist. It lodged itself between Fenris’ legs, just short of his groin.

“What the…! Isabela!”

“Just getting your full attention, kitten. I have something I need to speak to you about.”

She leaned over the chair, pulling out the knife and smiling that sweet, deadly smile of hers.

“Merrill comes to me, whenever she is confused about humans, the world, social norms and males. Which is rather often, I am sad to say. In other words, I know about you two.”

Fenris made to get up, already feeling anger bubbling to the surface. Was she going to start meddling too, now? Her knife pricked his chest and made him sit back down.

“Ah-ah! Listen to me. Merrill is one of a kind. I like her a LOT. And I think you do too. And for her sake, I want to give you a few pointers. Right now, she is confused. You have some… rough kinks.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued hastily, her grin wide at his reaction.

“You think your sexual depravities are unusual? Oh please! There are prostitutes in the Blooming Rose that specializes in** way **kinkier sex than whatever vanilla stuff you two get up to. But there are some safeguards that needs to be in place.”

Fenris sat in sulking silence. His dealings with Merrill had caused him a lot of worry, but he hadn’t got the strength to cut her off. The lust he felt when she came to him was too strong, and it was too tempting to give in.

“You will start using a watchword. It is to ensure Merrill always has the power to stop if she needs to. And it is imperative that you respect that. Secondly, if you go far in the pain department, there needs to be an emotional compensation in the end. I recommend cuddling and chocolate, but that is my personal preference. You should ask her what she likes.”

He nodded, despite himself.

“I also think you should spend some time with her outside the bedroom. Have you ever visited her house? Seen her work in the Alienage? I think you’d be pleasantly surprised. She doesn’t coddle them. But she helps. She wants to make things better, and **you** could help.”

Isabela moved away from Fenris, sheathing her knife.

“Give it a go, will you?”

Fenris got up, as she stopped in the doorway to the gallery.

“And Fenris?

“Yes?”

“If you hurt her, I will have your ball sack made into a fetching purse.”

Isabela grinned at him and left.

_.-._.-._.-._.-._

A few days later, Fenris made his way down to the Alienage. The main square was bustling with trade. Small, shabby booths selling food, ceramics, cloths and simple trinkets was spread out under the large vhenadahl, the “Tree of the People". When Fenris saw the Alienage the first time, he had been disgusted by the squalor the elves lived in. In his opinion, they didn’t stand up for themselves. They didn’t fight for their rights. They let humans take advantage, and settled for scraps. They deserved living in filth, if they weren’t willing to make changes.

Fenris’ initial response to all the trouble his elven kind experienced, was that it is better to die fighting than live under someone's heel. But as time passed and Fenris was dragged on countless missions all over Ferelden with Hawke, he grudgingly admitted he saw many situations the elves had no control over. If you had no fighting experience, no weapons, and no armor, how would you “take up the sword”? If you had no resources, no education, and no incentive other than failure, why would you stick out your neck to try to better your situation? He had come to Ferelden with a no-nonsense, black and white view of the world. And then Hawke, Varric and Merrill had to come along and muddle his nice and simple monochrome reality and make it into a thousand shades of grey.

He strolled along the walls, skirting the market, taking it all in. There were discussions, haggling, laughter, and squeals from children. The air was full of the smell of roasting meat, spices and cooking, of garbage and sweat, clay and iron. The large oak stretched its branches wide above them all, its dappled shade almost reaching the edges of the square where Fenris moved. On the other side of the tree, he discovered Merrill. She sat on a blanket, with two other elves. Merrill was leaning in towards the elderly female elf, her hand her shoulder, their talk low and personal. 

Fenris found a nook between two buildings and leaned back, settling in. He wasn’t sure what was going on, so he stayed quiet, observing. Over the next hour he saw a pattern emerge. Merrill had visitors sit down with her on her blanket in the shade. They always brought her something. One brought freshly baked bread, and the next few elves brought various vegetables, a small basket of eggs, and one woman handed over what looked like a pair of well-kept boots, the next man a little bundle of used clothes, the next left her a book. But Merrill never kept the gifts. Everyone who sat down, left with something else. She also got up every so often and got someone else to join her and her “guests” on the blanket. Fenris realized that even though it was hard to see, there was a kind of line formed to talk to her. She gave the gifts she received to people who needed it, a kind of community exchange? And she made connections between the elves in the Alienage. It looked like she set up people to help out with each others problems? He couldn’t be sure, but he saw a lot of handshakes, negotiations, and trade.

Fenris bought a falafel and sat down next to Merrill’s house, where he had a view of her “court” as well as the entrances to the square. He stayed for several hours, watching the sun set low and the gathered elves slowly trickle away back to their homes. Just as dusk arrived, Merrill got up and said goodbye to her last subjects. Then she rolled up her blanket and made her way towards her house. The look of delight when she saw him lessened a knot in his stomach he hadn’t realized was there. 

“Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Have you been here long? I know you don’t like it here, I’m sorry you had to wait.”

He felt bad. She said it so casually.

“I don’t mind, I had a really good falafel.”

“From Ivannoe, right? They are sooo good.”

She stood there for a moment, uncertainty. Fenris was unsure if he should invite himself in, but she got there before him.

“Want to come in? It is a bit messy, and I don’t have many refreshments to offer…”

Fenris got up, taking the blanket from her.

“Thank you, I’d like that.”

She smiled and opened the door for them. Merrill hadn’t lied, the small rooms were cluttered, but it wasn’t dirty. Books filled every surface, and her entire dining table was filled with papers, artifacts and magical diagrams. Every chair was stacked with papers and objects. On a small side table was a bowl filled with apples, and she grabbed it, handing him the whole thing.

“Do you mind sitting on the bed? I just want to use the washroom to freshen up. It’s been a long day.”

He walked into the bedroom, and sat on her bed. It was neatly made up, in stark contrast to the rest of the chaos in the house. He heard her draw water from the well and sing to herself as she splashed and washed in the next room. When she came out, her hair was damp, and she wore a simple cotton tunic in a light shade of green. She looked nervous when she sat down next to him, grabbed an apple and ate it quickly.

“You thanked me for saving you. But I never thanked you for saving me. And I needed to say,” he paused to put away the apple core, “never do that again.”

Merrill looked down. “I know you don’t approve of blood magic,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I really don’t. I understand it was as a last resort. But what I mean is. What I’m trying to say is, never risk your life for mine ever again. It really isn’t worth it.”

He looked her straight in the eye and she stared right back, for one not blushing or wavering at holding his gaze.

“I can’t promise you that, Fenris. You know that.”

“I don’t know that, no. Why not?”

He felt strangely rattled and annoyed at her clear defiance. 

“Because I love you. And you can’t ask me not to try to save you. Even with blood magic.”

Fenris got up in a rush, as if the bed was on fire.

“You what? No! No, that’s not right.”

She got up too, and before he could move away from her, she grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Fenris. I don’t expect anything from you, but I won’t make promises that go against my heart. I am only being honest with you.”

His feelings were chaotic, torn between the neverending anger, a tightening pressure in his chest he could only describe as panic, and something warm and blossoming in his heart. Fenris’ only wish at that moment was to get out and find the nearest bottle of wine, so he could numb these feelings. He turned to leave, but Merrill closed the distance, and snuck her arms under his, embracing him from behind.

“_Don’t go,_” she whispered, and he felt her cheek against his back, the dampness soaking through his top telling him she was crying silently. It rooted him to the spot, the mob of emotions warring for control in his mind. Eventually, Merrill made the decision for him. She came round to face him, and, standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“_Please stay._”

She placed her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his, kissing his cheek, jaw and neck. He closed his eyes. The tickling wetness of her mouth soothed the tumultuous emotions until it was only her left. Merrill’s whispers. The scent of pine from the soap she had just washed with, her nimble fingers tracing over his skin. The smoothness of her body under his hands, the taste of her mouth. He took her to bed, stumbling out of his clothes on the way. Pressing her down into the mattress, peeling her tunic off so he could take her nipples in his mouth. He couldn’t wait much longer, he sunk his hands down under her ass, grabbing her cheeks and pulling them apart. It made it easy for him to find her entrance without guidance, she was open and wet. He rolled his hips slowly, feeling the tip of his cock being enveloped by her heat. Shifting his grip, he changed the angle of her hips and filled her completely. Her mound and lips pressed against the base of his cock, she clung to him whimpering and gasping as he set a pace not too aggressive. He wanted to feel her, every little bit of her inside and out. She was pulling at him, as if being skin to skin wasn’t close enough, she needed more. He lifted his head, so he could look into her eyes.

“Do you like what I do to you?”

She met his gaze, her mouth half-open. She tried to lift her head to kiss him, but he grabbed her hair firmly from the back and pulled her head back down to the pillow.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly.

“I have been…,” he gave her a few particularly deep thrusts, to emphasize his words, “heavy handed with you. You left my bedroom with marks?”

“Yes. Yes, but, oh…” 

She arched her back as he pressed against her cervix.

“I didn’t know I liked it until you did it.”

Her hips came up to meet his, and he thrust harder, picking up his pace.

“The days after, when I felt the sting when I sat down, it made me wet. I wanted more. Oh please, more!”

He was hammering her into the mattress, holding her wrist in his hands on each side of her head. His cock was thrumming with her words, and her wetness and the tightening of her cunt.

“I will give it to you.”

And he forced himself into her womb, the final strokes making her cry out in a heady mix of pain and pleasure. His body curled inwards as the orgasm rode him, pumping his seed into her womb. They lay interlocked for a long time, just catching their breaths and coming down. He sat up slowly, his semi-hard dick sliding out of her, followed by a stream of semen pouring out of her. He watched it, enjoying the sight of his work. The mark that Merrill was his, from the inside out. Fenris put a hand on her mound, then slipped three fingers into the hot mess between her legs. She gasped. 

Merrill hadn’t come yet, and he wanted to see her unravel. He didn’t pump the fingers, only curled them in slow, lazy waves. Then he descended on her clit, mouth open. She tasted of his seed and her own tangy juices. The shuddering and twitching increased when he started to lap his tongue over her nub, in slow, flat motions without moving his mouth. She came suddenly, her body spasming so violently, he had to hold her down. Fenris emerged from between her legs, thinking she was crying. But she was giggling. A sweet sound, a release. He smiled at her without thinking. 

“Isabela came to see me. About you.”

Merrill sat up abruptly.

“She did? But she promised not to say anything!”

“Calm down. She pointed out some flaws in our…” he made a loose gesture between them. What was this thing between them?

“She suggested a watchword. For your safety. I think it’s a good idea. Something simple, that means I stop whatever we are doing. You choose the word.”

He pulled her in and laid back on the bed again, her head on his chest.

“That sounds good. I can choose any word? Ok.”

There was silence, while Merrill most likely pondered possibilities. Fenris hoped she didn’t come up with one of those crazy long elvish words that was impossible to pronounce unless you had spoken elvish from childhood. As she thought of a word, his mind wandered, thinking about what they were doing, about how today’s observations in the Alienage had shown him he really didn’t know Merrill well. About how right it felt lying here in her bed. 

“How about ‘revas’?”

“Freedom? I guess...yes, that works,” Fenris said. “Can I stay the night?”

The question came without him thinking about it. 

“Of course.”

“Tomorrow.”

She looked up at him questioningly.

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me more about the Alienage?”

“Of course, I’d love to!”

“I have been thinking. Maybe there is some need for training the young in self-defense? I could maybe take on a few kids if you think it is a good idea?”

“Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea!”

Merrill buried her face in his chest, and he rolled them over, slapping Merrill's ass, making her yelp and giggle. Tomorrow would be a good day, but in the meantime, he was here, now.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
